Stay With Me

by E. R. Wade

  “I’m happy too,” she says, smiling tentatively at me. “I’m ready for us to start a family. It’s something I’ve been dreaming about.”

  Her admission takes me by surprise. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You’ve been so busy at the office. I didn’t think you’d be ready yet.”

  Addie still isn’t thrilled about how much time I spend working but I try my damnedest to not stay a second longer than I have to in the office. I make sure I make out time to do the things she likes, and have date nights as frequently as possible.

  A month later, we’re back at the hospital for Addie’s first ultrasound. The walls are painted white and there are pictures of babies at various stages of growth on a wall. In the center of the room is a hospital bed, and Addie is lying on it. Her hand is clasped in mine and I smile at her reassuringly. I know she’s worried about the baby being perfectly healthy but I’m confident that we don’t have anything to worry about.

  The sonographer puts the ultrasound gel on her stomach. I hold her hand as he passes a handheld device over her skin. He moves the device seemingly looking for the best angle. He makes a few adjustments, and then I hear a steady heartbeat. A black and white picture of our fetus appears on the screen.

  My heart beats faster. Harder. Louder.

  “That’s your baby right there. Everything looks good.” I stare at the screen at the minuscule human thinking that I can’t wait to meet him or her. Addie squeezes my hand, and her eyes are glistening with tears. “Would you like a copy of the image?”

  “Yes,” I say, in wonder and awe. “We’d like that.” I kiss Addie on her lips, and I make her a promise. “I’m going to take very good care of the both of you.” I’m feeling very emotional. Seeing our baby’s image on the screen has brought up a host of unfamiliar feelings within me – fierce love and protectiveness. I can’t believe Addison and I created another life. For the first time in my life, I realize just how much I want to have a child. I want to be a father. I’ll hold my son or daughter in my arms in seven months. “Thank you for being wonderful. I love you baby.”

  “I love you too.”

  ***

  Present day

  I can’t believe I slept with Sofia without a condom.

  As soon as she told me that she was on the pill and clean, I wanted to be inside her without anything between us so badly that I almost thrust inside her right then. She’s the only woman I’ve been with completely bare. Addison and I always used a condom because she wasn’t confident that she’d remember to take the pill daily. We had decided early on we’d only stop using one when we were ready to start a family. After the initial shock of finding out she was pregnant, I spent the next seven weeks excited and planning on welcoming our baby until the night my world was ripped apart.

  I promised myself that I would never give any woman the opportunity to do that to me again. Yet, here I am, risking it all for the auburn-haired beauty who I can’t stop thinking about no matter how hard I try.

  EIGHTEEN

  Julian

  I’m standing at the front door of Sofia’s apartment waiting for her to come to the door. I’m about ten minutes early and I hope she doesn’t mind. Her neighbor, Mrs. Ricklan, was entering the building as I got here so she let me in. We walked up the stairs together and although I’ve only ever said hello to her a couple of times when I’ve bumped into her in the hallway, she spent the entire time grilling me about my relationship with Sofia, who she described as her favorite neighbor. That may be because Sofia has a soft spot for her cat and watches him sometimes from what she tells me. I told her nothing, deflecting her questions. She referred to Sofia as my girlfriend but I didn’t correct her.

  Sofia opens the door wearing a pair of white shorts and a green T-shirt.

  “Hey,” she says, smiling. “Come on in.”

  I make no move to enter her apartment. “I hope you don’t mind that I’m early?”

  “No, it’s fine.” She’s waiting for me to go inside.

  “I was thinking we could go out,” I tell her. I’m leaning casually against the wall, trying not to let on that this is a big deal for me.

  I’ve clearly stunned her. “Go out?” she asks as if checking to see if she heard right.

  “I want to make you dinner.”

  “You do?” Yep. She’s definitely surprised. She has no idea how much I’ve wanted to do this and so much more.

  “Come on. Let’s go.”

  “I’ve got to change.”

  “No, you don’t. You look gorgeous.” She beams at me.

  “I’ll just go and slip on a pair of sandals. Why don’t you come in while I do that?”

  She’s barefoot. I wish I could tell her to come that way. “I’ll wait out here.” Going inside might tempt me to abandon my plan to make her dinner. She’s just too alluring.

  Looking at me curiously, she says, “Okay. I’ll be right back.”

  She leaves the door open and goes inside. She’s back out in a minute and fifteen minutes later, we’re at my apartment building. We take the elevator up to my apartment on the thirtieth floor, and I open the door for her to go in.

  All of a sudden, a feeling of nervousness settles over me and I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because I want her to like it. It feels important that she does. I can’t explain it.

  She walks into the spacious living room and stops right in the middle, looking around including at the dining room and the open plan kitchen.

  Smiling at me, she says “I like your place. It suits you.”

  I smile back at her, feeling inexplicably relieved. “Wine?”

  “Water, please.”

  I get a bottle of water from the fridge and hand it to her.

  “Thank you.” She’s looking at the pictures on the shelf curiously.

  “Those are my parents, my sister, Liz, and her husband, Jeff,” I say.

  “You have your mother’s eyes,” she murmurs.

  “Let me show you around the apartment.”

  “I’d like that.” She sounds pleased at my statement. I take her hand in mine, and show her around the apartment.

  “I leased it two years ago, and converted the guest bedroom to an office,” I tell her, opening the door for her. I lead her into the room which has a glass and steel table, and a leather chair. There’s a shelf lining up a wall. It is filled mainly with books on architecture and design.

  “Impressive.”

  “Sometimes I like to work from here on weekdays.”

  “So this is where you go to,” she murmurs. I wonder if she knows she made the comment out loud. She has just revealed that she thinks about where I am when I’m not in the office. I doubt she would care about me hearing it. Sofia is not the type to pretend about what she wants or feels. I guess now she knows that this is where I am when I am not in the office, in a meeting or on a site.

  “I understand why,” she adds.

  I doubt she does. My home office is usually in use weekday evenings and weekends, never during working hours until I met her. But there’s no way I’m going to reveal that piece of information to her.

  “Let me show you the rest.” I hold her hand in mine, intertwining our fingers. I can’t stop touching her.

  The master bedroom is open, airy and light, with floor-to-ceiling windows, and an en-suite bathroom and a walk-in closet. Waking up every morning to a partial view of the city and the Golden Gate Bridge has finally grown on me. I’ve always preferred living in a house where I have full view of the garden or one by the water. Sofia’s eyes are drawn to the window, and after a few silent seconds, she shifts her gaze to the bed. My bed is an upholstered king-sized bed in dark chocolate and is paired with matching wooden nightstands.

  “Do you like it?” Her answer is important to me.

  “It’s beautiful. You must be happy waking up here every day.” The thought that I’d be happier waking up beside her every day pops into my mind.

  “Come on,” I say instead. We make o
ur way back to the kitchen which has stainless steel appliances, marble counters and flat-panel cabinets in shades of dark gray.

  She looks adorable sitting on one of the bar stools. I am deliberately standing on the other side of the island so that I don’t keep touching her and put an end to my dinner plans.

  “It’s very masculine, very you. Your apartment is spotless.”

  “I have a housekeeper, Rosalie. She comes to clean and stock up three times a week.” The truth is that I like neat and tidy places. I’m not a big fan of clutter. “And I haven’t entertained in a long time.”

  “You haven’t?” she asks. She sounds surprised and I can also detect mild curiosity in her question.

  “No,” I say simply. Her green eyes are now alight with undisguised curiosity. My gaze moves to her auburn hair framing her face. I want to wrap it around my hand, and bury my face in it. I move my gaze away, focusing on getting items out of the fridge for dinner. “Not since I moved in two years ago.”

  “You haven’t had anyone over in two years?” Sofia asks, the surprise evident in her tone.

  What she’s asking me is whether I’ve had any woman over in that time. Turning slightly to face her, I see she’s watching me intently, keen to hear my response. There is no reason to lie to her or avoid answering the question.

  “No, Sofia. Except for my mom and Liz, no other woman has been inside my apartment.”

  Okay, that’s clearly astonishment I see all over her face. I don’t know if I should be amused or offended. I’m tempted to ask her why my words have stunned her but I’m not sure I want to start that line of conversation.

  “But you’ve entertained elsewhere?” she asks clearly, as if my response would answer all the questions going through her mind. I don’t even want to think about what she means by ‘elsewhere’.

  “No, I haven’t.” Needing badly to put an end to this particular conversation, I ask her, “I hope you don’t mind pasta for dinner?”

  “You’re really going to cook?”

  “Of course. I did tell you I was going to make you dinner,” I remind her.

  “How good a cook are you?” She looks at me dubiously, her arms crossed over her chest.

  “You’re about to find out.” I grin at her confidently.

  “Pasta is good.” She finally answers my question.

  Twenty-five minutes later, I serve her pesto pasta with grilled chicken.

  “It smells great,” she says and takes a cautious bite, and then a bigger one. “The pasta is amazing. I love the flavors. Where did you learn to cook?”

  “My parents. I try to whip up something every now and then.”

  “Wow. I can’t cook. I can rustle up an omelet but that’s about it.”

  For dessert, we have sticky toffee pudding with molasses sauce.

  “My goodness. Julian, this is amazing. The cake is so moist, and the toffee sauce is incredible. Did you make this?” She’s practically moaning as she eats the cake. She doesn’t even spare me a glance.

  “From scratch,” I tell her.

  “Why are you an architect? You should be a cook.” She puts some of the dessert in her mouth and lets out another moan.

  Chuckling, I ask her, “Are you saying I cook better than I design?”

  Possibly just realizing what she said, she looks a little embarrassed and quickly adds. “Of course not. You’re a great architect. Undoubtedly one of the best I know. You’re a great cook too, judging by dinner.” She hesitates then smiles, sassily adding, “Utterly amazing in bed. Is there anything you’re not good at?”

  My smile dims. “Lots of things. I won’t bore you with the details.” She looks at me with concern, obviously sensing the change in my mood.

  “Julian –”

  “I’ll pack up some dessert for you to take home.”

  Accepting that I don’t want to talk about it, she teasingly asks, “Are you trying to make me fat?”

  “Just making sure you’re well fed,” I say, smiling at her. I get up to clear the table and she insists on helping out. I agree but refuse to let her do the dishes. I pop them into the dishwasher and usher her to the living room, and on the way, picking up my phone from the table to dim the lights in the house and put some classical music on.

  We’re sitting on the couch. Sofia’s head is leaning on my shoulder and I have my arm around her. At this particular moment in time, everything is perfect.

  “You could never bore me,” she says unexpectedly. Her statement reminds me of all the things I’d rather forget, at least for this evening.

  Staying silent, I hold her close and nuzzle her neck, breathing in her amazing scent. She smells so good. Is this what heaven, or maybe the perfect woman, smells like? The thought that someday soon I may never get to hold her like this makes me hold her tighter. We sit like that for a few minutes. I don’t want to move an inch and I know she must be wondering what has gotten into me.

  “Julian,” she starts hesitantly. The uncertainty in her voice makes me feel horrible. I shouldn’t put her in this position. I should give her more than this. She deserves better than me, a lot better. “What’s on your mind? You can tell me, I’m a good listener,” she urges softly.

  I know she is, but I’m not ready to tell her. I don’t know when I’ll be. I know she’ll find out eventually and I’ll prefer it if I’m the one to tell her but I don’t want to lose her just yet. And since I now know for certain that I’m a selfish bastard, I don’t give her the answer she deserves – the truth.

  “Nothing’s wrong. I just need to be inside you right now.” Disappointment flashes across her face, and I feel even worse than I already do. To block out the guilt, I lean down and take her mouth in mine. I make sure the kiss is soft and gentle. I don’t know if I’m trying to convey my apology or my growing feelings for her.

  “Come.” I stand up, take her hand in mine, and lead her out of the living room to my bedroom. We stop by my bed, and I tell her to sit on it. I am conscious that she is the first woman that I’m going to have sex with in my bed.

  Pulling down her shorts, I kiss every inch of her skin all the way down to her ankles. “You have the most gorgeous legs I’ve ever seen. I could stare at them all day.” I could stare at her forever. I push that thought away, and focus on removing the black lace thong covering her sex. Anticipation slams into me. I’m desperate to taste her and then bury myself very deep inside her. I press my lips to her clit, and Sofia jerks her hips in response.

  “Are you okay?” I ask. She nods at me. Her eyes are hazy with lust, and her lips are parted. “Just relax for me, baby. Breathe. That’s it. Another deep breath. Good girl.” Moving my eyes back to her pink and wet folds, I flick my tongue over her clit. Her hand grips my hair. I cover her clit with my lips and proceed to lick and kiss her into a state of mindless pleasure. Arching her back, her hand tightens on my hair and she cries out my name as she orgasms with wild abandon.

  I give her a few minutes to catch her breath while savoring the memory of her climaxing in my mouth. As soon as I hear her breathing return to normal, I kiss her passionately on her sweet lips, and then slowly trail kisses down her neck, and to her breasts. I haven’t given them the attention they deserve. I spend some time squeezing and sucking her nipples to the point where she’s writhing with pleasure beneath me and begging me to take her. I slip a finger inside her, and slowly move in and out.

  She’s so wet. So damn wet. I slip in a second finger but all I can think about is replacing my fingers with my rock-hard cock. However, making her happy is more important to me so I focus on making her come with my fingers. I can wait. I want her to come a couple more times.

  “You like that?” I ask hoarsely, and she answers me with a moan. I maintain a steady rhythm and she moves with me. I watch her closely as her movements become more frenzied, and her moans louder. I meet her stroke for stroke as I match her frantic pace. My fingers are coated with her wetness. Her breathing grows heavier. This is, without a doubt, the hottest
thing I’ve ever seen. My eyes are glued to her, and I watch her as she falls apart.

  “I need you,” she tells me, her voice filled with lust. I don’t wait for a second invitation. I quickly undress and get on the bed, kneeling between her legs.

  Lining up the head of my cock to her opening, I am more than ready to be inside her. “I’m not going to use a condom,” I say. She kisses me to let me know she wants me bare too.

  With one smooth thrust, I plunge inside her losing myself in her. I can’t help it, I let out a loud groan. She feels like pure bliss. She’s so fucking tight. I could stay in her forever and be gloriously happy for every single second of eternity.

  “You feel so good,” I tell her. I make love to her slowly and she repeatedly moans my name. Her voice is so sensuous. I love hearing my name on her lips.

  Her head is thrown back and her eyes are closed. I feel her muscles tighten around my cock as she shatters with a loud, delirious cry. This immediately pushes me over the edge as I explode inside her, coating her insides with my juices. I’ve never felt better than I do right now.

  I want to keep her.

  I look into her sparkling emerald green eyes, so full of life. She’s so open and honest. My gut tightens with an emotion I don’t want to name and haven’t felt in too many years. I reach out and touch her soft auburn hair.

  “Stay the night,” I murmur.

  Surprise flares in her eyes. She searches my face looking for any indication why, for the first time, I want us to spend the entire night together. She doesn’t ask why and I don’t know what my expression reveals. I’m trying hard not to give anything away but I don’t think I’m doing a good job of it. I don’t want to lead her on or give her the wrong impression, and although I am worried that whatever is happening between us has already become more complicated than it was meant to be, I can’t seem to stay away from her.

  “Okay.” She relaxes back onto the bed, and I hold her close to me. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I’m in too deep with Sofia.

  I really want to keep her.